


That God-Awful Clock

by emeiyonemillion



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chaos, Crack, adventures in quarantine, four idiots stuck in a house together, they're idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeiyonemillion/pseuds/emeiyonemillion
Summary: With the world on lockdown, The Beatles have to find new ways to spend their extra time.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	That God-Awful Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I wrote this back in the beginning of quarantine and just found it in my notes and thought i'd post it here lol. Hope ya like it and have a grand day/night/afternoon/whatevertimeitisforyou! -Em <3

Silence filled the room; aside from the obnoxious ticking and tocking of the clock and the occasional giggle from Paul, who was happily scrolling through Pinterest. It was horrible, the silence. So quiet it was loud. Deafening even. John shot up from his chair.

"THATS IT. IM GOING INSANE," he announced. George waved from his spot upside down on the couch, his legs wrapped over the top and his un-waving arm flopped lazily on the ground like a wet spaghetti noodle. 

"Take me with you," he called, reaching ever-so-slightly for John. 

"I'm not actually going anywhere, Geo. That's the problem, I can't FUCKING LEAVE," he looked around a moment for something to kick, and settled on the dehumidifier Paul kept in the living room because he's a prissy little princess. It toppled over and John yelled. George hummed tiredly which morphed into a loud yawn. Paul sighed. 

"Fer Christssakes Geo, go to bed if yer so tired," George shook his head as he yawned again. He'd taken it upon himself and his new state of boredom to break some world records. First he tried to break the world record for pickle eating and ended up puking all over the kitchen, couch, and Ringo's bed. Then he went for longest held breath and almost passed out. Now he was going for longest time spent awake. It's been almost four days since George last slept, and you have to hand it to him, he has indomitable will. He yawned again and lowered his arm over his eyes. John, not knowing what to do now that the dehumidifier had paid its price, turned on the telly. Some news broadcast was talking about some outrageous thing going on over in America. 

"Ya hear 'bout this?" 

"Hear about what?"

"That old man's goin' on about the masks again."

"Annoying Orange?" 

"The one and ugly," John smirked. "Honestly I wish he'd just shut up about it and just put one on."

"I wish he'd just shut up," George mumbled, changing his position so he was sideways on the couch, legs still draped over the top and the same arm still brushing against the carpet. Paul's phone dinged and he started typing, the pecking of his keyboard louder than that god-awful clock. 

"Who're you textin'?" John asked. 

"Rings,"

"What'd he say?" 

"Jus' askin' how to-" A shrill alarm echoed through the house and George sprang up, as awake as he was going to get. A loud crash sounded, followed by a familiar "SHIT!!!" 

"Oh no," John mused. The room filled with the scent of smoke and burnt cheese. The smoke detector had finally calmed/been taken down and soon came Ringo, barrelling into the living room with eight crusty, black triangles on a platter and a nervous smile on his face. 

"Bon appetite," he chuckled, giving two crumbling triangles to each Beatle and taking the remaining two for himself.

"The fuck did this used to be??" John questioned loudly, examining his 'meal'. 

"Grilled cheese," Ringo beamed proudly, "I made them meself." Everyone was silent for a moment, all staring at each other before George decided why not and after nodding his thanks, took a bite. Everyone watched to see him shrug, give a little thumbs up toward Ringo, and continue munching on the ashes of what used to be a sandwhich. John and Paul made eye contact, each willing the other try it first. Their silent banter went on long enough for George to finish his two, and started eyeing Paul's. Paul smirked at John. 

"Oh Geo, if you're still hungry you can have mine." George said nothing, only snatching his next two in response as Paul gave John a shit-eating grin. "Aren't you gonna eat those, Johnny? Ringo worked so hard.~"

"Oh piss off," he grumbled, taking a cautious bite. Then another. And another. "Woah, this is actually really good."

"Wait, really??" 

"Yeah, sucks to be you I guess," he sneered as he took another bite of the deceiving sandwich. Paul saw George hadn't touched Paul's second one yet.

"Hey Geo, mind if I-" 

"Yes." George fixed him down with such a cold stare Paul shivered. He looked back at John, who was happily munching on his overly-grilled cheese, then back to his own, still untouched. Quickly as he could, he snatched the sandwich and jumped away from George, who despite his recent grogginess was always quick to defend his food and had jumped for his property. Paul sprang back, completely forgetting that he was on the edge of the couch to begin with and fell off, hitting the wall with a soft 'oof!'. George, still wanting his food, leapt after him, and Paul scrambled away, grilled cheese already in his mouth as he grabbed a chair to defend himself with. There was no telling what George would do next. Paul held the chair out as menacingly as possible and took a bite. Then another. 

"EW. UGH," he threw the sandwich across the room and it hit the wall with a sad flop, leaving a crusty black stain against it. Paul looked at John, who was snickering behind his own grilled cheese. "YOU FUCKIN' LIED TO ME." 

"Y-you shoulda seen yer face-!" He cackled. Paul grumbled and went back to the couch. George munched on the wall-cheese. 

Another hour of silence went by. Or it would've been silence if it weren't for that GOD AWFUL FUCKING CLOCK. John shot up from his chair for the second time that day. 

"I SWEAR TO GOD IF THAT CLOCK TICKS ONE BLOODY MORE TIME-"

tick.

John stormed off to the garage, returning with a baseball bat.

"John, what're you-" smash. John hit the clock so hard it left a dent against the wall as it fell to the floor, shards of glass shooting out every which way. John dropped the bat and returned to his chair, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

"Well he lasted longer than I thought he would," said Ringo, who was supporting a finally sleeping George on his lap. 

"John or George?" 

"Both."


End file.
